Pradip Chattopadhyay

5 Minutes Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

5.00 am

mr. run-o-millfrom a mundane slumberwakes up.His sleepy eyesScan the walled curtainedHalf-lit room.He introspectsIn gloomTucks it into his headIt’s not worthwhileLeaving his bedTo open his windowTo the same show.

5.03 am

he heard a tunea bird’s callthat soonturned a cacophony.He felt tickled by the buzz.CurtainsRebellious no moreYielded dollops of light.Mr. run-o-millIn him something stirred.He couldn’t say what it wasHe didn’t seeHe just heard.

5.05 am

two-three wordscame to his mindand to his pleasant surprisethey found a few moreand formed a lineand then more and morepoured in….that end of nightwithout breaking a sweatmr. run-o-millby some hidden designturned a poet.